


Debts

by HawthorneWhisperer



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 15:35:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4484923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthorneWhisperer/pseuds/HawthorneWhisperer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy and Clarke hooked up at a party shortly before she left for college.</p><p>And when she returns to town eight years later, they pick up right where they left off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Debts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alienor_woods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienor_woods/gifts).



> So...this is pretty much just smut.

It took Bellamy a moment to place the blonde woman sitting in front of him.  Clarke looked so different now, with her nose ring and the lines of a tattoo on her collarbone peeking out from under her v-neck shirt.  Eight years ago she didn’t have any piercings or tattoos, and eight years ago Clarke would never have worn a black leather jacket.

 

Eight years ago, he thought he’d never see her again.

 

After all, if anyone was getting out of Arcadia, it was Clarke Griffin, town princess.  She was blonde and pretty and smart and everyone loved her, from her teammates on the soccer team to the burnouts that lurked behind the gas station, begging for someone to buy them a beer.  She left town riding high on scholarships and awards, and Bellamy gritted his teeth all the way through her valedictorian speech, full of platitudes about the lives they could live if they only dared to dream.  By that time Bellamy was twenty three and knew that dreams didn’t really amount to very much when you had a little sister to feed and student loans to pay.  He would have walked out if it wasn’t Octavia’s graduation too.

 

At the time, he didn’t know that just a few months later he’d be fucking her in a bathroom at Roma’s parents house.

 

“Bellamy?” Clarke asked, wrinkling her brow.  “You still work here?”

 

Before he would have snapped at her, but he just shrugged.  “Yup.  What are you doing back in town?”

 

“Residency.  I got matched with Mom’s hospital, so here I am, moving home like every twenty six year old dreams of doing.  But I thought you were a teacher?”

 

Bellamy wasn’t sure how she knew that but was willing to bet Clarke’s source was Octavia and her constant over-sharing on social media.  “I am.  But you know, loans.  What can I get you?”

 

“Vodka rocks,” Clarke replied.  

 

Bellamy poured her a drink and headed back into the thick of the crowd at the bar.  Friday nights were hell to work, but the tips usually managed to make up for it.  He watched Clarke out of the corner of his eye as she nursed her drink and did his best to concentrate on the tasks in front of him, but his mind kept drifting back to that night.

 

_Normally, Bellamy wouldn’t have bothered with going to Roma’s party.  He was too old for that crowd, and anyway, big keggers weren’t really his scene.  But Octavia was going and didn’t have a ride, and he’d be damned if he let some random drive his baby sister home._

_She was all he had left, after all._

_That was how Bellamy found himself standing in a corner, drinking shitty beer from a red plastic cup and making awkward small talk with Clarke Griffin._

_Bellamy knew it was unfair to hold Clarke responsible for the way the town reacted to her father’s death, but it still stung.  When his mother died, the funeral was just him, Octavia, Jasper, Monty, and a great-aunt they’d never met before and who never contacted them again after.  When Jake Griffin died just two months later, the town acted like the president and Mother Theresa all rolled into one had been the one hit by a drunk driver, not an engineer whose wife was Chief of Staff at the hospital.  It wasn’t that Jake’s death wasn’t a tragedy, but it still felt like a slap in the face.  The message was clear: Clarke’s family mattered and Bellamy’s didn’t.  He shoved his resentment down as far as he could and tried to keep up his end of the small talk, even though he wasn’t sure why he was bothering.  Maybe it was because he was bored, or maybe it was because he recognized something in her eyes.  Anger, maybe.  Whatever it was, it kept him by her side despite his feelings about her family._

A half hour later, Bellamy noticed Monty had joined Clarke at the bar.  Bellamy hadn’t known Monty very well, but given Jasper’s enormous crush on Octavia when they were all in high school, Bellamy had gotten used to Monty showing up at their house sometimes.  Jasper and Monty were also some of the only friends to show at Aurora’s funeral, and as a result Bellamy had always had a bit of a soft spot for the quiet boy.

 

Bellamy was pouring a round of beers for a bachelor party when he saw Monty pat Clarke’s shoulder and announce it was time to leave.  Clarke made eye contact with him and gave him a shy wave, her mouth opening like she was going to say something but instead she just smiled at him and disappeared into the crowd.

 

He didn’t see her again until the following Thursday when she showed up at the bar again, still in her leather jacket.  This time business was slow and the music wasn’t blaring so he didn’t have to shout to her.  “Vodka rocks again?” he asked.

 

“You remembered,” she replied, a smile quirking around the edges of her lips.

 

“It’s my job.”  That was only sort of a lie--it was his job, he just usually didn’t bother to remember people’s drinks unless they were regulars.  But Clarke had a habit of sticking in his brain, like the way it insisted on replaying the night of Roma’s party over and over again since he saw her the week before.

 

_“So when do you leave for college?” he asked Clarke._

_“Two weeks.  It still doesn’t seem like it’s happening, though.”_

_Bellamy shrugged, remembering what it felt like to leave for college at eighteen.  If his mother hadn’t gotten cancer he would be done with college by now instead of working at a bar and taking classes part-time.  “It won’t sink in until you get there,” he advised.  Clarke nodded politely and an awkward silence fell.  “So...having a good summer?” he asked lamely, wondering if maybe he could track down Octavia and convince her to leave._

_Now it was Clarke’s turn to shrug.  “Not really.  Turns out my boyfriend hadn’t exactly broken up with his girlfriend like he said, and I got to find that out in a spectacularly humiliating fashion when she came back from college.”_

Clarke sipped her drink and Bellamy leaned on the edge of the bar.  “So what’s new with you?” she asked.

 

Bellamy shrugged.  It was sort of a broad question, considering he hadn’t seen her since Roma’s party.  “I teach high school history and work here on weekends and in the summer.  It pays the bills.”

 

“And Octavia works for the sheriff’s department now, right?”

 

“She does,” Bellamy confirmed.  “You said you’re back here for...residency?”

 

“Emergency medicine.  I think my mom might have pulled some strings to get me matched here.  I was kind of a disaster this winter and I think she thought I needed to come home.”

 

Bellamy decided not to take the bait.  He would bet good money Clarke was referring to a break up, but he didn’t feel like talking about her relationships.  He knew where that would lead.

 

_“Does she know?” Bellamy asked as Clarke glared daggers across the room.  Finn and Raven wove their way through the partygoers, their fingers clasped together, oblivious._

_“I don’t think so.  I didn’t want to hurt her, but that means--”_

_“--that you have to deal with it on your own,” Bellamy finished.  “I get it.  That sucks.” He shifted to block her from the happy couple, but that put their faces just inches apart._

_Without warning, Clarke surged up and kissed him.  Bellamy pulled away, stunned, but his lips tingled.  Clarke looked away and a blush spread across her cheeks.  “Sorry, that was--I  shouldn’t have, I’m sorry.”_

_Bellamy should have moved back.  He should’ve given her space--he should back away, because she was eighteen and hurting and he was twenty three and knew better.  But Bellamy also understood being angry and alone, so instead he trailed a finger along her jaw and tipped her head up.  “Nothing to apologize for,” he murmured, kissing her again._

“Well, welcome back.  It’s still the same old shithole that you remember.”

 

Clarke grinned and he found himself grinning back.  “You’re always a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?”

 

“That’s me.  Professional optimist.  Where you living these days?”

 

“With my mom.  Which just screams ‘I have my shit together,’ doesn’t it?”

 

Bellamy snorted and Clarke smiled, and for the rest of the night he drifted back to her whenever he wasn’t pouring drinks for other customers.  Aside from that night at Roma’s he didn’t know her well, but something about her kept drawing him back.  She didn’t seem much like the brash eighteen year old he’d met that night, but she wasn’t too different either.  That steely demeanor was still there, that fierceness, that refusal to back down.

 

He liked that in a woman, he had to admit.

 

His shift was winding down while Clarke finished her second drink.  She pulled out her wallet but he waved her away.  “These are on the house.  Welcome back.”

 

“Now, that’s not fair--I already owe you,” Clarke said with dark, hooded eyes and a smirk.

 

Right.

 

That.

 

_At some point Clarke had curled her fingers into his shirt and with a pointed look toward Finn, dragged Bellamy out of the crush of people and they stumbled through Roma’s parents’ house into a bathroom.  Clarke slammed the door behind them and the thumping bass from Monty’s attempt at DJing suddenly sounded much further away.  Their teeth clicked together in their haste and Clarke had Bellamy pressed against the door within seconds.  Her hands worked busily at his belt buckle while he slipped his hands under her shirt, skimming his fingers up the divots of her spine.  He pushed aside her collar and nipped at her clavicle, and her answering moan went straight to his groin._

_Bellamy walked her backwards until she bumped into the counter and then lifted her up and set her down.  He fit neatly between her thighs as she dragged her lips across his jaw.  “You sure?” he mumbled._

_“Definitely.  Condoms are in my purse,” she said between kisses, waving her hand toward the floor where she’d dropped her purse._

_Bellamy captured her earlobe between his teeth.  “Not yet, Princess.”  He whispered his fingers up her inner thigh, grateful she’d worn a skirt.  Clarke lifted her hips to help him slide her panties down her legs and they let them drop to the cold tile floor.  He trailed one finger along her slit, breathing in the hiss that escaped her lips.  He feathered her clit until she spread her legs wider and Bellamy took the cue and eased a finger inside her, keeping his thumb on her clit.  He moved slowly, until her breathing sped up.  He added another finger and moved faster then, stroking her until her walls fluttered around his fingers and his name fell from her lips._

_Clarke dropped her head to his shoulder and giggled breathlessly.  “Well, that was fun.  Condom?”_

_Bellamy kissed her gently and ignored the implications of her coming to a party where she knew her ex would be with a purse full of condoms.  It wasn’t his business and anyway, he understood revenge.  So he grabbed a condom and pushed his jeans down his hips, and by the time he was inside of her he’d forgotten all about her revenge.  Her heels dug into his backside and she refused to let him pull out too far, her blue eyes burning into his as their breath mingled.  He moved his hand to where they were joined and once again starting drawing tight circles on her clit until she came and he followed her just a few sloppy thrusts later._

_Clarke tipped her chin up to kiss him, and the sweetness of it threatened to stop his heart.  But then the moment ended when her phone trilled from her purse.  Bellamy pulled out and threw away the condom while she grabbed her phone and and stepped back into her underwear.  “Wells is looking for me.  He wants to go and I’m his ride,” she explained.  She drew closer to him as he re-did his belt and kissed him one last time.  “I owe you one,” she said with a wink and slipped out of the bathroom._

Looks like he wasn’t the only one dwelling on those stolen moments eight years ago.  He licked his lips, returning her look, and tipped his head toward the back, where his car was parked.  “My shift ends in ten.”

 

Clarke winked and slipped off the stool while Bellamy finished up.  He snuck out five minutes early, because fuck it.  Maybe this was sketchy as hell, but he hadn’t been seeing anyone since Echo left town a year ago and Clarke was hot.  And maybe he’d gotten himself off remembering that one night a little more often than he’d care to admit.

 

Clarke was leaning against his car in the deserted employee parking lot.  Her arms were crossed but a slow smile spread across her face as he approached.  “I couldn’t decide if I was being too subtle or too obvious,” she said, hooking her fingers into his belt loops and pulling him close.

 

Bellamy bracketed his arms beside her head.  “It took me a second, but I caught on.  Is your car here, or do you need a ride?”  He nosed behind her ear and kissed her neck, starting at her shoulder and working his way up to the corner of her mouth.

 

“My car is here, but I wasn’t planning on leaving just yet.”  Clarke stepped out of his arms and knitted their fingers together.  She pulled him to the alley between the bar and Indra’s Antiques and pressed him back against the rough brick.  She tangled her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and rolled up on her toes, sealing her mouth over his.  He brushed her tongue with his own and wrapped his arms around her waist, enjoying the way her breasts felt pressed against his chest.

 

Clarke popped the button on his jeans and reached inside, making him hiss at the way her hand felt grasping him over the fabric of his boxer briefs.  “Remember, I owe you,” she whispered hotly in his ear.  She dragged her lips down over his throat and dropped to her knees in front of him.  She drew him out of his boxer briefs and smiled wickedly before engulfing him in her mouth.  She wrapped her hand around the base and dragged her tongue along the underside of his shaft and Bellamy squeezed his eyes shut, because goddamn.  He slipped his fingers into her hair when he felt his balls start to tighten and whispered a warning, but Clarke just hollowed her cheeks and sucked harder until he saw stars.

 

She stood and kissed him again, and Bellamy banded an arm around the small of her back.  He could taste himself, dark and salty on her tongue, and spun them around so she was the one pressed against the alley wall.  He made short work of her jeans and slipped his hand inside, cupping her over the thin scrap of lace she wore.  “Is this what you want?” he growled.  She mewled and bucked her hips in response, but he kept his hand still, pressing just slightly harder.  “Answer me,” he ordered.

 

“Fuck, yes, please,” she whined, the lace growing damper under his fingertips as she begged incoherently.

 

Bellamy inched his hand up and under the waistband of her panties, feeling her curls brush his palm as he parted her folds.  She was hot and soaking and he eased a finger into her, and Clarke nipped at his collarbone between her breathy moans.  He added another finger and pressed his thumb to her clit, teasing the bundle of nerves until her walls clenched around his fingers and she dropped her head back against the brick wall.  

 

Just like the first time, she giggled.  “Looks like I still owe you one,” she teased, nibbling his lower lip.

 

“I’ll give you my address.  You can pay me back any time you like,” Bellamy chuckled.  Clarke pulled her phone out and he typed in his number and address.  She refused his offer of a ride to her car but kissed him soundly when they parted at his, and melted into the darkness beyond the streetlight just moments later.

 

**

 

_(434) 555-3492_

__12:03am_ _

_Hey.  It’s Clarke.  You awake?_

 

Bellamy glanced at his phone when it vibrated against his nightstand.  He was sitting up in bed, halfheartedly reading a novel he’d read almost a dozen times, so technically, yes.  He was awake.

 

But they both knew that wasn’t what she was asking.

 

He picked his phone up and swiped it open.

 

_Bellamy Blake_

__12:04am_ _

_I am.  Want to come keep me company?_

 

 

_(434) 555-3492_

_12:04am_

_If that’s what you want._

 

_Bellamy Blake_

_12:04am_

_It is._

 

_(434) 555-3492_

_12:05am_

_Be there in ten._

 

Bellamy added Clarke to his phone and debated putting a shirt on, but decided against it.  That would just get in the way.  He did pull on the jeans he’d been wearing earlier, however, and when she rapped sharply on his door he tossed his reading glasses on his desk and padded through his apartment.  

 

Clarke’s eyes lit up when he opened the door and she saw him shirtless.  “Hey,” she said lowly, slipping past him.  “Thanks for answering.”

 

“Thanks for texting,” Bellamy replied in kind, flipping the lock back into place.  “Why are you up so late?”

 

“Just finished a shift at the hospital,” she explained, shrugging out of her jacket.  She hung it up carefully on a hook near the door and toed off her sneakers.  She was wearing an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt with a stretched out neck that slipped dangerously toward her shoulder.  Her bra strap was dark purple and the tattoo he noticed the first night appeared to be a wing, delicately feathered and stretching from her shoulder to the hollow under her throat.  “So.”  She looked at him expectantly and crossed her arms underneath her breasts in a way he was rapidly becoming familiar with.

 

“So,” Bellamy echoed, crowding her against the door. He planted his hands on either side of her head and leaned down until their noses were just centimeters apart.  “We’re doing this.”

 

Clarke tipped her chin up.  “We are,” she confirmed, her lips nearly brushing his.  She shrank back against the door with a challenging look and trailed a finger across his abdomen.  Bellamy inhaled sharply at her touch, somehow not quite prepared.  “Aren’t we?”

 

Bellamy barely let her finish her words before he descended on her, kissing her harshly.  She met him with equal fervor, clawing at his shoulders for purchase.  He pressed his knee between her legs and smirked when she rocked against his thigh.  He pulled away long enough to tear her shirt up and over her head and then ducked down, sucking hard on the spot where her neck met her shoulder.

 

Clarke pushed him back, her palms flat against his chest, with a blazing look in her eyes.  Her chest was heaving, her breasts high and firm under the dark purple satin bra.  She stalked after him and only stopped when his back hit the countertop of his tiny kitchen.  She brought her index finger to his collarbone and trailed it downwards, slow and deliberate.  Bellamy watched her with hooded eyes and she caught her lower lip between her teeth when she reached the muscles just above his hips.  He placed a hand on her lower back and gently tugged her closer, dipping his head to nose her bra strap off her shoulder.  

 

“Bedroom?” he whispered, catching her earlobe between his teeth.

 

Her nails dug into his back.  “Yeah.  You have condoms in there?  Otherwise there’s some in my purse.”

 

“I’m well prepared,” he assured her and wrenched himself away from her.  She followed him silently down the hall and watched as he closed the door behind them.

 

“Roommate?”

 

“Force of habit.”  She was shimmying out of her jeans as he spoke and kicked them aside.  “Hey now,” he warned and stepped toward her.  “I was going to do that.”  He dropped to his knees and kissed just below her navel, skimming his fingers up her back to release the clasp on her bra.  Clarke let it drop to the floor next to him and speared her fingers through his hair, her breath getting shorter as he worked his way to the hollow of her hip, placing slow, careful kisses along the waistband of her panties and hooking his fingers through the sides.  

 

Bellamy eased her panties down and her grip on his hair tightened.  He sat back on his heels and smiled up at her, liking how her nipples pebbled above him.  He returned to his work, nibbling on her hipbone and then laving the spot with his tongue.  Clarke sank onto the edge of his bed and spread her knees wider, opening herself to him, pink and glistening in the dim light.  She leaned back slightly and propped herself up on her elbows, watching as he kissed first the inside of her knee and then higher.  Her scent surrounded him and he breathed her in eagerly and then spread her folds with one hand and licked a long, slow stripe up her center.  Her nails scraped across his scalp and he drew her clit between his teeth, gently flicking his tongue across it and smiling to himself at the way she moaned in response.  “More,” she begged, and Bellamy thrust his tongue deep inside of her, her taste driving him on.  Her thighs started to tremble and her moans became higher pitched and keening.  He peered up and saw she was playing with her nipples, plucking them with fingers that glistened with her own spit.  Bellamy redoubled his efforts, licking deep into her entrance and pressing tightly on her clit with his thumb.

 

She came with a sharp cry that made him devoutly grateful Miller had moved out a few months before, and Bellamy leaned back on his heels and winked at her.  “Need a minute?”

 

Clarke flopped backwards on his bed and laughed.  “That sounds like a challenge.”

 

“Maybe it is,” he teased and stood up.  He shucked his jeans and boxers and Clarke rummaged through his nightstand for the condom.  She handed it to him and positioned herself against his pillows, languid and waiting.  Bellamy rolled the condom on and grabbed her ankles, tugging her down the bed.  She squealed happily and wrapped her arms around his neck as he positioned himself over her, lined himself up at her entrance and pushed inside.

 

Her pupils blew wide as he entered her, and Bellamy found himself trapped by her gaze, unable to do anything but watch her as he pushed in and out and her hands roamed across his back.  She seemed mesmerized too, her dark blue eyes burning into him as she met him thrust for thrust.  She pinned her hand between them and worked tight circles on her clit, and when her eyes finally closed she cried out again, her walls fluttering along his cock in a way that made him see white.  His thrusts became sloppy as he felt his release gathering at the base of his spine and he came shortly after she did.

 

Exhausted, he collapsed on top of her, his head pillowed on her breasts.  “Sorry,” he mumbled.  “Just give me a second.”

 

Clarke laughed and squirmed underneath him.  “You’re gonna crush me,” she warned, and he reluctantly pulled out of her and lay back down on his stomach after tossing the condom into the trash.  She rolled to her side and ran her fingers through his hair.  She seemed to like doing that, he realized, and he liked when she did it.  “Any objections to this being a regular thing?”

 

“None.  None whatsoever.”  His voice was probably muffled by his pillow, but he didn’t care.  He slung his arm over her.  “You staying?”

 

But she was already wiggling out from under his arm and searching for her clothes.  “Can’t--sorry.  Promised Mom I’d have breakfast with her tomorrow, and even though she’s trying really hard to pretend she knows I’m a grown up, I think it would be a little much for her if I rolled in still wearing yesterday’s clothes.  Raincheck, though.”

 

Bellamy turned his head and watched her redress, and chuckled at the face she made once she’d pulled on her bra and jeans, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed in thought.  “Your shirt is in the kitchen,” he supplied.  “Remember?”

 

She clucked her tongue exasperatedly and strolled out of his room.  Bellamy grabbed his boxers and followed, strangely sad to see her go.  You barely know her, his brain reminded him.  Clarke shoved her feet in her sneakers and checked her purse, and then smiled at him.  “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

 

“You know where to find me.”

 

She smiled more broadly at that.  “I do.  And you can call whenever.”  And then with a swift brush of her lips over his, she unlocked his door and left.

 

**

 

Within a month, Clarke had become a sort of fixture in his life.  More often than not she was waiting for him when he finished a shift at the bar, that smile and challenging look he’d come to adore spreading across her face as he walked towards his car.  Some nights they didn’t even make it out of the parking lot, Clarke riding him hard while his windows fogged up.  Some nights she showed up at his apartment and they tore each other’s clothes off the moment he opened his door.

 

At first, she never stayed the night.  Bellamy always offered, even though after awhile he gave up actually hoping she’d stay.  So the night she turned to him, her face still flushed and glowing, and asked if he meant it, he almost didn’t know what to say.

 

“Do you mean it?  When you offer to let me stay?” she repeated.

 

“What?  Oh, yeah, I mean, yeah, I mean it.  You can always stay, if you want.”

 

“Okay then.  I will.  Stay, I mean.”  She rolled out of his bed and padded toward the attached bathroom, and when she returned she scooped his shirt off the floor and pulled it on.  “I’m wearing this, though.  Hope that’s okay,” she announced.

 

Bellamy’s heart did a funny thing at the sight of her and for a second he lost his voice.  “Yeah, that’s fine,” he rasped when he found it again.  Clarke climbed back into his bed and let him curl around her, but it took a long time for him to fall asleep after that.

 

Clarke started staying over more often after that night, but even though they never really talked about it, it was pretty clear that whatever they had was just sex.  They never saw each other outside of his apartment (and occasionally his car), and their texting conversations were usually limited to scheduling what had rapidly become his favorite extracurricular activity.  Still, he liked talking to her, and on mornings when he woke up to find her in his bed he would sometimes just look at her, peaceful but somber, until it became too much and he’d place soft kisses on her shoulder until she roused and they could return to what they did best.

 

She even spent the weekend once after she admitted that sometimes, living in her childhood home without her father was hard.  “So stay,” he found himself saying as they sipped coffee at his kitchen table.  “I don’t have to work at the bar until Monday at four.  We can just hang out here.”

 

And so they did, and in between friendly arguments about what to watch on TV ( _We already watched what you wanted to watch.  Now it’s my turn to bore you to death,_ she’d teased) Bellamy felt something small and hopeful take root in his chest.  He tried to smother it, but by Sunday afternoon, Clarke was dozing with her head in his lap (wearing his clothes, like she had been all weekend) while he read a book and absentmindedly stroked her hair and he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

 

He tried though.  God, did he try.  It wasn’t until Miller met her three weeks later that he admitted it to anyone, much less himself.  

 

_Clarke Griffin_

_11:35pm_

_Tonight?_

 

Bellamy paused while wiping down the bar and to type back a reply.

 

_Bellamy Blake_

_11:41pm_

_Yeah.  But you’ll have to be quiet.  My old roommate’s new place has termites, so he’s crashing with me for a few days.  That okay?_

_Clarke Griffin_

_11:41pm_

_Yeah that’s fine.  And no promises on being quiet, but I’ll do my best. ;)_

 

That night, Clarke muffled her moans in his shoulder as he drove into her as slowly as he could, determined to make it as difficult as possible for her to keep her word.  She fell apart with a silent scream and he kissed her until he followed.

 

Clarke slept tangled in his arms that night, and the next morning she was still sleeping when Bellamy slipped out of her embrace to take a cold shower.  He was halfway through soaping himself up when the door creaked open and Clarke crept in.  She stuck her head around the shower curtain and smiled.  “Hey--the hospital called and I’ve gotta head in.  Mind if I join you?”

 

Bellamy wordlessly moved aside and let her take his place under the spray.  She squealed in protest and cranked the water as hot as it could go.  “I should have known you’d take arctic showers,” she said with narrowed eyes.  Bellamy chuckled and handed her shampoo, wondering how the sight of her naked could make him feel like this.  He’d seen her naked countless times by this point, but always with the purpose of making her come.  This was somehow more intimate as he helped her rinse out her hair and brushed the wet strands back from her eyes.  She kissed him slowly when she finished, taking her time and brushing her tongue alongside his, and then she hopped out with a cheerful smile.

 

He finished up as quickly as he could, and by the time he was dressed Clarke was in the kitchen, sliding her shoes back on while Miller poured her a travel mug of coffee.  Bellamy handed her a banana and she kissed his cheek.  “Thanks.  And thanks, Miller,” she said and hurried out the door like it was the most natural thing in the world.

 

Miller raised his eyebrows and slurped his coffee.  “So that’s what’s been keeping you so busy this summer, huh?  Were you planning on telling me you have a girlfriend?”

 

Bellamy ruffled his wet hair uncomfortably.  “It’s nothing.  Just sex.”

 

“Right.  Just sex.  Try again,” he said pointedly.

 

“I mean it.  It’s nothing,” Bellamy protested, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

 

“Nothing.  That would be a little more believable if you hadn’t just showered with her.”

 

“Yeah.  We showered together. So?”

 

Miller sighed heavily.  “You showered together.  You didn’t have sex, and don’t even try to deny it because I lived with you for years, buddy.  I know what shower sex sounds like, and that wasn’t it.”

 

Bellamy sank into a chair.  “Whatever.  It’s--it’s whatever.”

 

Miller patted his shoulder sympathetically as he left the kitchen.  “You’ve gotta tell her,” he advised.  “It’ll eat you alive if you don’t.”

 

**

 

_Clarke Griffin_

_12:17am_

_I know it’s late, but can I stop by?  I have some things to finish up at the hospital, but then I can be right over._

 

Bellamy wiped the sleep from his eyes and tried not to sigh.  He hadn’t seen Clarke in almost a week, not since that morning with Miller.  He knew Miller was right, but if Clarke was texting this late she probably wasn’t in the mood to talk.

 

_Bellamy Blake_

_12:18am_

_Yeah.  I’ll leave the door unlocked._

 

He tried to stay awake but drifted off sometime around one, wondering if she’d changed her mind.  The soft sound of a drawer closing woke him up some time later to Clarke with her back to him, wearing nothing but her favorite pair of dark blue panties.  She tugged on an old AC/DC t-shirt of his, the one she had basically claimed for her own since she started sleeping over two months ago.

 

“Hey,” she whispered, fluffing her hair out of the collar of the shirt.  “Sorry I’m so late--things got crazy just as I was about to head out and I got stuck.  I texted, but I don’t think you got it.”

 

“What time is it?” He propped himself up on an elbow and watched her make her way around his bed.  He wondered if he was seeing things, or if her eyes looked a little puffy.  

 

“Three.”  Clarke pulled back the sheets and climbed in.  “Today was--today was bad.”  Her voice grew thick and she settled her head on the soft spot between his shoulder and his heart.  “Hold me?”

 

Automatically his arms wrapped around her and he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.  “Of course,” he whispered.  She melted into him and he stayed awake, running his fingers through her hair, until her breathing evened out.

 

The next time he woke, something was tickling his stomach.  It was Clarke’s hair, he realized belatedly, trailing across his abdomen as she pressed wet, open mouthed kisses down towards his waistband.  She peered up at him and her lips curved into a grin.  “Morning.”

 

Bellamy cuffed his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her up.  “Morning,” he mumbled against her lips.  She nipped his lower lip and slipped back down, scraping her teeth along the line of muscle just above his hip.  Bellamy helped her ease his boxers down and let out a strangled moan as her tongue traced the vein on the underside of his shaft.  He fisted the sheets when her lips encircled the head of his cock, her tongue fluttering against it, and then nearly shouted her name as she drew him into her mouth as deep as she could, her fist covering the rest.  

 

She cupped his balls in her other hand and took him even deeper, her mouth hot and wet and perfect.  Clarke twisted her wrist and dragged her tongue back up his length, pulling him from her lips with a soft pop and swirling her tongue around his head again.  He curled his fingers into her hair and started groaning her name over and over again as she repeated the process, taking his cock almost to the back of her throat and then laving her tongue along it as she pulled away.  Bellamy’s vision started tunneling and he felt the familiar heat rising in his belly just before he let go, spilling himself down her throat.

 

Clarke let his still-hard cock slip from her lips and nipped at his hipbone again, smiling proudly.  She crawled up his body and kissed his jaw and then the corner of his mouth.  “Morning,” she said again.

 

Bellamy let out a breathless laugh and gathered her in his arms.  “Morning.  Just give me a second, then I’ll take care of you.”

 

Clarke kissed his chest and wiggled out of his arms.  “Don’t worry about it--I kind of have to get going, actually.”  She stripped out of his shirt and scooped her bra from where she’d draped it over his desk chair.  “By the way, there’s this--thing.  Tomorrow.”  She hooked the bra behind her back and ran her thumbs under the straps.  “I assume you have a suit?”

 

Bellamy tore his gaze away from her pale legs flashing in the morning light. “What?  Oh, uh, yeah.  I have one.  What for?”

 

“My mom really wants me to come to this annual charity thing tomorrow night at the club, but--well, I hate it.  Would you be interested in keeping me company?  There’s unlimited free booze, and I can send a car for you as a thank you.”  She buttoned her jeans and pulled her t-shirt over her head while Bellamy’s brain caught up.

 

“Oh, uh...sure.  Yeah.  What time?”

 

“It starts at seven.  I’ll have a car stop by here then and I’ll meet you there.  Sound good?”  She clambered onto his bed again, kneeling over him and planting her hands on either side of his head.

 

“Yeah, sounds good,” he agreed.  

 

Clarke dropped a kiss to his lips.  “Great.  See you then.”

 

Bellamy let his head fall back against the pillow as she swept out of his room.

 

Miller was going to die of laughter when he found out.

 

**

 

Bellamy fidgeted with his tie and snatched a champagne glass from a passing waiter.  Clarke had promised she would be right back, but he was still uncomfortable as hell.  It was less the setting--he could handle rich old people just fine--and more how the evening had been going.

 

It started okay, even though he almost swallowed his tongue when he saw Clarke in the foyer of the Country Club.  He had been prepared for her to be dressed up, but the figure-hugging black dress with the plunging neckline was far more scandalous than he ever imagined.  “Hey,” she said brightly, kissing his cheek.  “Ready for this?”  She knitted their fingers together and looked at him expectantly.  

 

“Yeah.  Ready,” he lied.  “You look--you look nice.”

 

“So do you,” she said with an almost imperceptible wink.  “Okay, first things first.  Never be without a drink.”  Clarke led him past the entrance and grabbed them both champagne flutes.  “Here goes nothing,” she said, handing him one and clinking her glass to his.

 

And then it started--a whirlwind of strangers, all asking Clarke to introduce him and then giving him sidelong looks.  Everywhere he went, he could tell they were the topic of conversation.  Clarke either didn’t notice or was far better than him at hiding it, easily introducing him as Bellamy and giving no hint to either their relationship or that that she realized their presence seemed to be causing a minor scandal.  No one even glanced towards her tattoos (the wing on her collarbone belonged to a winged lion on her shoulder that she’d gotten in honor of her father on the two year anniversary of his death, something she’d told him late one night when their voices threatened to give out after talking for hours), so Bellamy had no doubt he was the cause of all the sly whispers.

 

He glanced towards the bathroom again but still, no sign of her, so he swiped another glass of champagne and ducked out the wide french doors to his right.  They opened onto a deserted patio with well-manicured gardens just beyond.  He headed that way, desperate for some silence and solitude.  Bellamy sank down onto a park bench hidden from the clubhouse by a large hedge and downed the champagne.  He rested his elbows on his knees and ran his fingers through his hair, wondering if Clarke would hate him if he just...left.

 

Because he couldn’t do this--he couldn’t pretend anymore, and he couldn’t handle the stares.  And he wasn’t sure he could look Clarke in the eye and risk losing her by telling her how he felt.

 

The click of heels on cement made his head snap up.  “For a second, I thought you left,” Clarke said quietly.

 

“I was thinking about it,” he admitted.  “What--what’s going on in there?  Why is everyone so...interested?”

 

Clarke sighed and sat next to him, rubbing her hands over her upper arms.  “Probably because the last three times I came, I brought Lexa.  My girlfriend.  Ex-girlfriend, I mean.  And their moderately liberal minds can handle Abby Griffin’s daughter as a lesbian, but I’m pretty sure they think being bi just makes you either confused or a slut.”

 

Bellamy draped his arm over her and pressed a sloppy kiss to her temple.  “Lexa.  So I’m guessing she’s the reason your mom thought you needed to come home?”

 

Clarke rested her head on his shoulder.  “Yeah.  We were together for almost four years, and it was time to interview for residencies, so I just--I assumed she would come with me.  We never talked about it, but I made sure that every place I looked would have somewhere she could get a job, and then--then she came home one day and told me that she had enlisted in the Army.  Said that she’d always wanted to, and it was better for us to end it now because there was no real future for us.  And I just--I fell apart.  Here I was, making plans for the both of us, and she never even considered it.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Bellamy muttered against her hair. And he was, because he knew what was coming.   _And I’m just not ready for anything serious yet._

 

“So yeah.  When I came back, I thought--well, I thought that you would be just what I needed.  Simple.  Uncomplicated.  Talented.” She glanced up and waggled her eyebrows, but Bellamy didn’t have the heart to return her grin.   _So thanks, but we’re done._  He could feel it coming and braced himself.  “But then...well, I just wasn’t prepared.  For you to be you, you know?”

 

“I don’t,” he said honestly.

 

Clarke straightened and took his hands in hers. “I wasn’t prepared to like you so much, or want to spend so much time with you, or just--to want you like I do.  But I do.  And I thought--I guess I thought you felt the same, but…”  She trailed off and bit her lip, looking concerned.

 

Bellamy couldn’t speak, so he kissed her instead.  Softly at first, but then with more and more urgency.

 

Clarke pulled away slightly.  “So--that’s a yes?”

 

“What was the question?”

 

She laughed.  “I have no idea.  But we’re--we’re on the same page, right?”

 

Bellamy kissed her again.  “Yes.  Yes we are.”  He stood up and offered her his hand.  “But I can’t take this party any longer.  What do you say we get out of here?”

 

Clarke took his hand and stood up, her heels bringing her almost to his eye level.  “That’s the best idea you’ve had all night.”  She pressed her lips to his and tucked herself against his side.  “The car should be in the parking lot.  I’ll have him drop us off at your place and head home for the night, yeah?”

 

Bellamy nodded and stopped walking.  He turned to face her and framed her face with his hands, skimming his thumbs along her cheekbones.  She was beautiful, but also more than that, somehow, and he couldn’t believe his luck.  

 

So he kissed her again, simply because he could.

  



End file.
